


stitch us back together

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [44]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Castiel in the Bunker, Human Castiel, M/M, Mostly porn, Multi, Rimming, Some Cuddling, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean, they were complicated, they were working on it. They had moments of weakness and moments of spite and they had never moved in to the same room together, just slept sometimes in one and sometimes in the other. But since Cas dragged his bed into Dean’s room and pushed it up alongside Dean’s – space be damned, seriously, there was not enough space and Dean’s room was basically one big bed now, he’d moved his dresser into Cas’ room – well, it was kind of like Cas was the stitches that pulled them back together so they could heal up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stitch us back together

Dean shifts a little lower on his bed. Ah, soft memory foam, always comfortable even if he’s half tipped over on his side to nestle up close to Cas. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Slowly sinking down the headboard as they tangle up in each other and kiss sweetly gentle. One of Cas’ arms is wrapped behind Dean’s back, in the barely there small of his waist, hand squeezing in to his side as Cas’ kisses with open mouthed panting. 

Dean doesn’t blame him for the distraction. It’s hard to put much technique into a kiss while you’re getting sucked off by Sam Winchester. Oh, Dean’s been there a few times with a few different partners. 

But this right here, the three of them, he knows in his bones this is it. 

Sinking even lower, rubbing his cock in the crease of Cas’ hip, Dean hums contentedly into the kiss. Sam surfaces, wet pop of his mouth off Cas’ dick, and crawls a up little to drape himself over Dean’s thigh and get a mouth on his cock. 

“That’s it baby boy.”

Sam’s not really a baby anymore, he’s not small and shy like the awkward teenager he used to be that’d blush so pretty when Dean called him ‘baby boy’. It still slips out sometimes. Makes Sam smile a little, right before he goes down, lips stretching wide over Dean’s cock as he braces a hand on the mattress between bowed thighs, other hand working Cas’ spit wet shaft. 

The bed barely dips or creaks – memory foam, seriously, try it – when Cas wriggles his way down the bed further. Dean lifts his arm to let Cas out of his hold, dark hair all tousled, stubble on Cas’ jaw tickling Dean’s belly when Cas kisses over his body with his little nip-sucks. Cas is still trapped under Sam’s weight, one leg curled up around Sam’s waist and the other buried under the mess of their bodies. 

Sometimes, Dean kind of loses track of where his body ends and where theirs begins.

-

Compared to Sam, Dean is definitely not a morning person. He doesn’t get up at ass crack o’clock to go fucking jogging then make juice smoothies. Compared to Cas, Dean is a pretty chipper morning person. For one, he actually gets out of bed without having to have his sheets yanked off and be woken up like a petulant child. 

But Dean still likes Cas in the morning. 

A little rumpled, blinking sleep away, and even though he loses his morning wood after pissing his cock is usually plump in his boxers when he crowds up behind Dean at the coffee pot. 

Then Sam comes jogging in, pink cheeked, sweaty, and the two of them can grouse at his disgustingly healthy habits. Dean really likes the heat of his body, though, the smell of the sweat collecting in the curve of his shoulder. 

They’ve kind of fallen in to a routine, Sam getting back to full charge, Cas dealing with losing his mojo. They drift in and out of each other’s space through the day, but mornings are nice, crowded around the coffee pot bumping semis up against each other’s asses even though there’s more than enough room in the kitchen to back up. 

-

Cas keeps butt scooting lower on the bed, licking his way down Dean’s body and curling around Sam, and Dean just knows what the little sneak is heading for. Twisting his fingers up in Sam’s hair, Dean tugs his brother up until Sam gets the memo and looks up at him. “What d’you want sweetheart, want Cas to fuck your ass while I fuck your mouth?”

Sam squeezes a hand around the base of Dean’s cock and swirls his tongue wickedly as he pulls up. Show off. “Yeah,” looking back over his shoulder where Cas is jostling behind him, man handling Sam exactly where he wants him, between his brother’s legs and on his knees. Sam smiles and pumps Dean’s cock, lips shiny, “Yeah, Cas, gonna eat me out first?”

Cas hums like he’s considering that – like it wasn’t the first fucking thought in his head – and no matter how many times Dean sees it he just goes crazy for the sight of Cas’ hands on Sam’s ass, pulling him wide open and staring at him. 

It is a sight to behold. 

Cas doesn’t really talk much during sex, you can wind him up like a toy grunting filth in his ear, but he never really talks himself. Just fucking goes for it, puts his mouth to use other ways. Sam goes back to sucking Dean’s cock while Cas buries himself in Sam’s ass, but Dean pulls his brother up again and squirms his way down on the bed. 

Thighs wide, bent up on either side of Sam’s hulking frame, Dean gets himself down flat on his back to cradle Sam’s face and kiss him. He’s useless, anyway, when someone’s got their mouth on his asshole. And it’s not like Dean can tell exactly what Cas is doing by the shivers in Sam’s body, how his belly twitches, how his breath catches, but Dean can damn near guess. Cas has a very long tongue. And he’s downright filthy, something Dean had never really expected. 

Stroking his hands along the slopes of Sam’s back and bringing them round to pinch a nipple every now and then, Dean basks in his brother’s warmth and mentally checks off what they’ve got in the fridge and what he can make for dinner. 

-

They still hunt sometimes. There’s fallen angels to be dealt with. A half human-half demon Crowley hybrid that they don’t want to unleash on the world but don’t really know what to do with. Basically, there’s a lot of shit. But there’s always a lot of shit. And the more shit you shovel, the more shit you find. It’s just moving piles of shit around anyway. 

So yeah, they’re, doing what they can. Dean still enjoys the thrill of a hunt and the satisfaction of helping people, but his back isn’t too good for digging graves much anymore and if he’s being honest with himself – not like he’d be this honest with Sam or Cas about the subject – his knees are so bad sometimes he takes bottom just cause he doesn’t want to bother with the ache in them. 

Kevin’s still rattling around in the bunker, swinging between researching colleges and researching lore. He’s a good kid. Doesn’t come in the kitchen too early in the morning. Sleeps with his headphones on, apparently. 

It works.

-

When Cas finally pulls back and shuffles over to the night stand for lube, Sam is all pink cheeked and whiny. His body is a fucking furnace, works up a sweat and a racing pulse just getting this far; Dean loves watching the beads of sweat drip down his neck. 

“C’mon, down at the edge of the bed.”

Nudging Sam down, Dean shifts up the bed to get out from under him. Cas lazily circles back to the foot of the bed, placing a hand on the small of Sam’s back and rubbing circles into the skin. Kneeling up - and at least the memory foam is kind to his knees - Dean shoves the hair back from his brother’s face and cups his jaw, rubbing the pad of his thumb against Sam’s lower lip, bit deep pink, always opens so easy for him. 

Sometimes it’s hard to take his eyes off his little brother, but Sam’s not going anywhere and Dean really enjoys the show that Cas puts on. Probably doesn’t know he does it. Shoulders curled forward just a little, one brow arched, the muscle in his arm flexing as he slicks lube down his cock, fat head pearling with pre come sliding in and out of the circle of his fist. Oh, it’s a nice show. 

Sam lets one foot drop off the bed to brace on the floor, the other knee still bent up, tilting his ass back and getting a hand on Dean’s hip to pull him forward. He and Cas take it slow, get pressed right up against Sam where he’s straining between them, wanting all of it. They know each other’s cues so well, it’s one slow long push from both ends to sink into Sam’s body at the same time and he’s fucking trembling under Dean’s hands where one rests on his shoulder and the other at the crown of his head. 

Dean slides past those lips stretched tight around him and Sam’s eyes flutter close, body see-sawing back and forth, his back rolling as he curls up, down, up, and Dean can’t help thinking of that yoga position he’s seen Sam and Cas in sometimes where they curl their backs like fucking cats and it’s hilarious. 

“There you go, Sammy.”

And Sam loosens up, just like that, goes pliant between them. 

-

When Cas moved in to the bunker, dirty and cranky and achingly human, he had gotten the privilege of his own room. Dean figured they owed him that much. Figured Cas’d want his space. Figured things weren’t really the same now between all three of them, with nothing but cracked humanity growing weeds, no grace in Cas, no demon blood in Sam, no missing souls or archangels or external control bearing down on them. Dean wasn’t too sure how they’d fit up next to each other. 

But Cas only slept in his own room for one night. 

Kevin had watched from the end of the hall with a cup of coffee cradled in his hand the next night as Cas dragged the frame of his bed, screeching something godawful fierce over tile floor, down to Dean’s room. Cause there was no way two grown men, much less three, would fit on a single queen bed. 

Sam and Dean, they were complicated, they were working on it. They had moments of weakness and moments of spite and they had never moved in to the same room together, just slept sometimes in one and sometimes in the other. But since Cas dragged his bed into Dean’s room and pushed it up alongside Dean’s – space be damned, seriously, there was not enough space and Dean’s room was basically one big bed now, he’d moved his dresser into Cas’ room – well, it was kind of like Cas was the stitches that pulled them back together so they could heal up. 

-

The silk heat of Sam’s mouth is one of Dean’s favorite places to be. Sam’s great with his mouth, when he’s going down, works his tongue all over the place and isn’t afraid to slobber like a dog all sloppy wet. But when Dean’s got Sam’s face in his hands, got him backed up on another dick and they’re working him over, Sam just goes lax and Dean loves fucking into his throat, owning it. 

“That’s good, Sammy, that’s so good.”

Dean frames Sam’s face with his hands, palms curved under his jaw, fingers spread across his cheeks. At the praise, Sam’s eyes blink open, look up the stretch of his body at him, and Dean’s always a little awe struck at those strange hazel eyes, how they’re always changing colors, how much wonder they can hold when they look at Dean. 

Cas nudges Sam’s one leg back up on the bed, pulls his hips a little higher and hits his stride, rhythmic long drags of his cock and if Sam bows his back down – “Yeah, Sammy, just like that” – and Dean sinks to sit with his butt on his heels and Sam fallen forward in his lap, he can watch it. Watch the way Sam’s body opens around Cas, the pink stretch of his muscle punched in on a thrust and clutching around Cas on a pull back. 

Dean fucks Sam’s mouth a little faster, gets all worked up watching Cas, listening to the rough hitch of his breath all pleasure and affection, Sam squirming between them now chasing his own edge. And Cas, always the gentleman, curls forward and wraps an arm around Sam’s waist to jack him off. Dean can feel it, the moment Sam looses it, lets go, his throat convulsing around Dean and thrumming with the muffled groan of his release. Dean can’t ever make it past that point, past the ripple of Sam swallowing him down as he helplessly unravels under them. 

Pushing his hands back in Sam’s hair and snapping his hips buried deep to draw it out, Sam takes it all and even though he doesn’t mind spilling spit down his chin all messy he swallows every white thick bitter drip of Dean’s come. 

Half the time, Cas comes quietly on a sigh, the other half of the time, he’s a grunter and Dean has always found the noises he makes pretty funny. 

When Cas pulls out, he pats Sam’s ass with his clean hand and pads around the bed to get a tissue to wipe the other one off. Sam flops over onto his side and fits himself around Dean when Dean stretches along the bed. Cas takes up the other side and they smoosh Dean between them, all sweaty and sticky. 

Dean hears Sam fart, and yeah that happens sometimes after anal, air just… gets up in there. But then he smells it. He doesn’t mean to shove quite as hard as he does, but Sam goes tumbling to the floor in a flail of limbs.

“Dean, you jerk, what the hell.”

“Dude, I know I made turkey sandwiches for lunch, what have you been eating today?”

Sam at least has the decency to look mildly ashamed. “I might have had burritos for a mid morning snack.”

“You’re fucking toxic. Hey, do me a favor and go see if there’s chicken in the freezer to thaw for dinner.”

His brother might grumble, but he knows he’s not allowed in bed for cuddles if he’s eaten burritos in the past twenty four hours. So he pulls on pajama pants – fuck jeans, it might be the middle of the day but who cares – and a gray tee shirt. Dean tugs him down, snagging the hem of his shirt, for a kiss to show there’s no hard feelings and say hey thanks for getting the chicken. 

Course once Sam’s gone, Cas nuzzles up close and tries to get his own kiss. 

“Nuh-huh, you just had your mouth on Sam’s ass.”

Cas squints at him. “Dean, you’ve licked your own semen out of Sam’s ass.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t go trying to kiss you afterward. What happens between a mouth and an ass should stay between a mouth and an ass.”

There’s that eye roll, and Cas could stay in bed for cuddles without the kissing, but he gets up and wanders in to the hallway - hopefully to brush his teeth. Doesn’t even put on a robe, and Dean’s just waiting for Kevin’s indignant squawk. 

There it is.

Spreading one arm straight out without hitting another body, Dean realizes he’s got the entire of their two shoved together beds to himself. So he sprawls, rucks up the sheets, makes a mound of pillows and settles down. 

This is the life.


End file.
